Rules for Ghosting by A. J. Paquette Read Free Book Online Page A

learn the Rules of Contact! Like most essential things in life, these are extraordinarily simple: To make Contact, you must only remember to Clear and Concentrate.”
    Dahlia waited. When Mrs. Tibbs didn’t say more, she said, “Wait—that’s it? That’s all I have to do? But what does that
mean
exactly?”
    Mrs. Tibbs clucked. “All right, there is a
little
more to it than that. But it does become second nature after a while, I promise. Let me demonstrate.” They were in the living room now, which was mostly draped in sheet-covered furniture. Only one ornate burgundy couch had been uncovered, the white sheet wadded up and muddy-footprinted in a way that hinted that the uncoverers were quite likely small and up to no particular good.
    Dahlia hovered above the couch, squirming. “I hate the whole
sinking in
part—I just hate it! That’s why I never staylong on the upper floors. It’s so easy to lose track of myself and fall right through things.”
    â€œBut what about your tree carving?” asked Mrs. Tibbs. “You were able to make Contact there, weren’t you?”
    â€œWell, yes, I suppose so.” Dahlia hadn’t thought of that. “I haven’t been able to affect anything else, though. Living objects are mushy. I can’t touch them or pick them up or sit on them or anything.”
    â€œWhy do you suppose that is?”
    â€œI’ve got absolutely no idea.
Should
I know?”
    Mrs. Tibbs slid smoothly over until she was above the couch. Pulling herself into a sitting position as straight as a capital L, she lowered herself with dignity onto its cushioned surface. Dahlia’s mouth dropped all the way open. “Gosh, that’s something else! I can even see it squishing under you. Good work, Mrs. Tibbs!”
    â€œTut-tut, my dear. It’s nothing at all! Now, how about you describe your carving process to me.”
    Dahlia pondered. “I just—well, I sort of”—she grinned—“I sort of sharpen up my finger into a point. I don’t know how it works, only that it does. I usually make a chart when the stars are sitting heavy on my heart. They fill me up and up until I just have to let them out. Then I go to my tree, lean in to the bark, and draw what I see.” She looked up. “Does that help at all?”
    â€œIt sounds to me like you have been practicing your Clear and Concentrate without realizing you were doing so. Now,why don’t you try to grab ahold of those same feelings and take a seat over here next to me.”
    Dahlia did a little flip and hovered in the air next to Mrs. Tibbs. She tried to clear her mind, though she could feel it wobbling like a ghost flower in a breeze. Slowly, ever so slowly, she lowered herself toward the see-through surface of the unexpired couch.
    And sank in to her waist.
    â€œAck!” she yelped. Her backside prickled like it was being stuffed with cotton.
    Mrs. Tibbs smiled. “Never you mind, my graceful gadabout. Time and practice will get you there in the end. Keep your mind on the rules: Clear and Concentrate. First, Clear your mind: scrub it all the way out. Any heightened emotion will get in your way—above all you must be master of your internal senses.”
    Dahlia focused on emptying her mind. Her excitement and her frustration pretty much canceled each other out, and she pushed them firmly aside. She could do this. She
would
do this. She focused until the couch sat right in the center of her mind, blocking out everything else.
    â€œAnd now, Concentrate. Think carefully about what you’re doing. See in your mind an image of yourself sitting on—
on
the sofa, resting your full self …”
    Dahlia squeezed her eyes shut and imagined herself following the instructions. She felt no difference, but when she looked down again she gave a cry of surprise. “Look, I’mdoing it! I’m sitting
on
the couch. It’s so